


You Should Be Here

by Princeton



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Bad First Impressions, Cafe AU, First Meetings, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, Keith (Voltron) Is Confused, Lance (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Meet-Cute, klance, so fun, this is part 1 of a series of fics i have planned
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 05:31:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15812391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princeton/pseuds/Princeton
Summary: “My treat if you don’t like it,” Lance says.Keith looks up from the menu, his fingers clenching around the pages a little tighter. “What?”“If you hate the drink after you taste it,” Lance explains, his toe nudging the ground, “I’ll buy your next drink. Promise."or Lance and Keith meet at a cafe and their relationship sort of takes off from there.





	You Should Be Here

**Author's Note:**

> AO 9/17  
> \- title has changed*  
> \- work changed from complete to multichap.  
> \- minor grammar mistakes were fixed  
>  
> 
> *prev. Could Have Gone Better

_Keith_

Keith has always had a knack for getting into trouble. Prior to his death, his father would say it was practically Keith’s gift. Between fight or flight, he always chose fight.

In fact, it'd been in kindergarten when Keith got into his first fight. He’d noticed Mickey Covorksy stealing Edith’s animal crackers and he just had to help her. Then there was the time in third grade that he met Siergo Pinto at the center of the kickball field and kicked him in the nuts like as if they were two rubber balls; it’d been a real home run. Keith can’t remember what that fight was all about, but he was pretty sure it was Pinto that instigated it.

As Keith got older the fights weren’t as frequent. He mellowed out under the care of his adopted older brother, Shiro. Being scolded by Shiro wasn’t exactly his cup of tea. There was never any shouting or hitting, but there was Shiro’s disappointed look that managed to shake Keith to his core and until he was 18, there was also the ever-present threat of being sent away. Now, at 20, whenever Keith got into a fight the reasons were more justifiable. They were more so out of self-defense than adrenaline.

Keith raced motorcycles and sometimes winning was worse than losing. Broken thumbs, aching ribs, black eyes, Keith was familiar with it all. He kept at it though, the racing. Each win brought in good money; helped pay for his rent and the college loans he was still paying off even after dropping out.

Present day Keith lay in bed listening to the sound of binaural tapping coming in through his earphones. It was sometime in the afternoon and he’d been awake for the past three hours but he hadn’t moved from his bed beside to brush his teeth and find his laptop. Physically he was fine but morale was rather low after having returned home last night without his motorcycle. He’d lost it after coming in second to some white-haired new-face on a Suzuki GSX-R600. Keith’s sponsor, because that existed even in illegal street racing, had told him off. Said it was ridiculous that he’d lost to a nobody and that he’d get his bike back only after Keith proved he was worth it.

“Which doesn’t make any fucking sense!” Keith had complained to a groggy Shiro at 4 AM in the morning. He’d come home stomping his feet and Shiro had been waiting on the couch with his chin tilted up and drool dripping out his mouth. “How am I supposed to prove myself if I don’t have a bike to ride?”

“What about Red?” Shiro offered even in his dazed state.

“What about her?”

“Well,” Shiro yawned into his closed fist, “You still got her, don’t you? And you have some money saved up from your previous wins. Now, I’m not saying I like that you race, because you know I don’t, but Red is a pretty amazing bike. Trick her out a bit and use her.”

“No.”

“Keith…”

“No, no way am I using Red. She’s my baby. She’s, she’s-“

“She’s what you rode _before_ you got sponsored,” Shiro sighed.

The door to Keith’s bedroom creaked open. Keith paused his video. Shiro stood near the door in joggers and a tank top. Like the fashion criminal he was, he also wore socks with his sandals. “What?” Keith lolled his head to the side to meet his eyes.

“Come out with me.”

“No thanks. Let me wallow in peace.”

“Oh come on,” Shiro rolled his eyes, “It’s raining and I want lunch and Adam isn’t picking up my calls.”

“Is he still mad that you forgot your anniversary?”

“A. It wasn’t even our _actual_ anniversary. Just the day we met. And B. I didn’t forget!”

“He told me you forgot.”

“I remembered before midnight!” Shiro groaned. “Also it’s not like he didn’t know. Why couldn’t he just tell me instead of waiting around for me to remember first?”

“S’not the same,” Keith sighed.

Shiro banged his head twice on the door frame before resting it against the wood. “Just come out with me. You need some fresh air, I need some fresh air.”

The urge to say No was strong but Keith threw the guy a bone. “Where we going?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Shiro shrugged. “There’s this place my co-workers say is really good. Cafe Arus?”

 

* * *

 

_Lance_

Lance hadn’t seen Hunk in what felt like _years_. With some mumbo-jumbo excuse about endemic species and the university funding the expedition, Hunk had been out of town along with Pidge- their mutual friend- on a trip to the Galapagos Islands for 4 weeks. It’d been awful. Not only was Hunk Lance’s best friend but also his roommate. Without Hunk around, their home had been quiet, and being that Lance grew up surrounded by family, being alone for too long always left him in a weird headspace.

With Hunk’s return; however, they decide to catch up over lunch at their favorite place, Cafe Arus. They could have done it last night but Hunk had dropped his luggage at the foot of his bed and fallen face first onto his orthopedic memory foam pillow and knocked out almost immediately. A mumbled, “Goodnight bud,” had been Lance’s only warning that he’d have to wait another night before getting to fully enjoy having his friend back.

Lance awoke to rain that morning. Taking his sweet time, he took a warm shower and went through his face routine before bundling up and meeting Hunk in the living room.

Lance hadn’t washed his car since before Hunk left so the rainwater ran brown as it slid down his car door and out towards the gutter. Hunk suggested they take his car instead.

When they arrived at Arus and left the car with the valet, Hunk hurried indoors and outside the pouring rain. The door to Arus slid to the right instead of outwards, and inside the walls were a blue-green. The letters on the menu were white, as were the mugs and the marble tables, and just about every other detail in the cafe. While Hunk scurried to claim their usual spot closest to the chest of board games, Lance stood in line.

There was always a line at Arus. Looking around, Lance counted ten people in front of him and a good thirteen others already sitting and waiting for their orders. Pulling out his cell phone and signing onto Instagram, Lance waited for his turn.

He tried to keep to himself, honest, but Lance was behind two bickering men sharing a menu. He pretended not to eavesdrop as he scooted a step forward, eyes glued to his phone. It’s not his fault he was a curious person. Hunk had rubbed off on him.

“Do they have _anything_ to drink here that isn’t coffee?” the shorter one on the left asked. Lance looked up just in time to see the guy make a face and turn the menu over to read the back.

The one of the right sucked on his front teeth, skimming the menu quickly trying to find something to suggest. “Tea?”

“Gross. Rather have coffee.”

Lance looked down at his phone again. He double tapped on a picture Hunk had posted from his flight landing. A “Don’t forget to comment!” was shouted across the cafe that sounded very much like the voice of a certain best friend. Typing away, Lance returned his focus on the conversation in front.

“Then get coffee,” Righty said to which Lefty responded with a deep sigh.

“And be immensely disappointed when I drink it and it’s gross. Rather not.”

“You’re so picky.”

“Only about things I like.”

“Apparently. You’re no Gordon Ramsay. You dip bread into soda.”

Lance couldn’t _not_ snort at that. He tried to hide it behind a cough but it was too late, Lefty turned around and looked immensely unamused in his leather jacket and mullet.

“Something funny?” Lefty asked.

“Actually yeah,” Lance straightened up. He towered over the guy by a margin, which admittedly helped the entire confrontation thing going on. “Who goes to a coffee shop if they don’t drink coffee?” he asked, aiming for _warm and humorous_ but coming off closer to _sarcastic asshole_. He needed to work on that.

Lefty seemed to consider Lance. His eyes skimmed down Lance's buttoned-up coat, following the rod of his long thin frame that led to his blue skinny jeans, and down to his brown butte boots. If Lance were any less confident he’d have probably wilted under the guys gaze.

“Someone that can’t say no to when free food is offered,” Lefty replied as though he hadn’t just checked Lance out. “He chose the place.”

“Guilt,” Righty admitted, raising his hand halfway.

Lance nodded. Hunk was what he would call a foodie, which sort of made Lance a foodie by association, and they often frequented dd restaurants, some of which Lance only agreed to visit after Hunk dangled the offer of free food over his head. Safe to say Lance understood where Lefty was coming from.

Forgetting the concept of personal space, Lance ever so graceful and swiftly snatched the menu from Lefty’s hand.

“Hey-!”

“So what is it you don’t like about coffee?” he asked.

Lefty appeared confused as to how to respond; he glanced over at Righty for help but received nothing more than a shrug.

“Uhm,” he fumbled, “I like coffee. It’s just, most places don’t serve _good_ coffee.”

“Don’t I know it. What’re you into?”

“Excuse me?”

“Sweet, spicy, high roast, medium roast? Can’t suggest anything if I don’t know your taste, Lefty,” Lance said.

“It’s Keith,”  ~~Lefty~~  Keith corrected. He pushed a strand of hair behind his ear. “And I don’t… I guess something strong? I hate when the drink is overly sweetened. If I wanted a dessert I’d just order one, you know? I want to _know_ I’m drinking coffee.”

Lance nodded. Quickly scrounging the menu for a drink, he proceeded to point to the latte portion of the menu and show Keith. “Sounds like you’d like the Half Sweetened Salted Caramel Oat Milk Latte,” he suggested.

“A latte? Did everything I just say not register with you?”

“Trust me, you’re gonna like it," Lance promised as he returned the menu. Keith accepted it with a silent Thank you before passing it on to Righty to continue looking it over. "Allura, the barista, she has like a sixth sense for this coffee making stuff. Her lattes are a perfect blend of flavors.”

“Sure," Keith noncommittedly nodded, pursing his lips. "What if I don’t like it? Sure would be a waste of money.”

“Thought you said your friend was paying?”

“Well yeah, but, still...”

Taking a moment to glance at Righty, Lance noted how he appeared to be having an internal debate. He couldn't choose between hovering over Keith’s shoulder or pretending to mind his own business. Not that Lance would judge him, that's how this whole conversation started.

Lance cleared his throat. “Well, I don’t think you have anything to worry about with this drink. Even a coffee snob would say it’s good.”

“I am not a snob,” Keith scoffed.

“You are with coffee,” Righty chirped from beside.

“Shiro!”

“You are! Mom and dad know to send us care packages with coffee beans because you like to ground them yourself.”

The blush on Keith’s cheek, which he'd been sporting for some time now, deepened. He shoved ~~Righty~~ Shiro forward, mumbling to keep it moving.

Before Lance could consider what he was doing, he was already opening his mouth. “My treat,” Lance blurted.

Keith pealed his eyes away from Shiro to look at him. “What?”

Clearing his throat, Lance tried again. “If you hate the drink after you taste it,” he explained, his toe nudging the ground, “I’ll buy your next drink.”

To Lance's surprise, Keith answered with a simple, “Oh, uhm. Okay,”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. You sound pretty confident…”

“Lance,” Lance supplied.

The line moved forward, Shiro walking up to the register to order. Keith stayed in place. “Lance,” he repeated, testing out the name on his lips. There was the faintest of a smile on his lips, the corners of his mouth upturned. “It's a deal. If I don’t like this fancy latte I’ll hold you responsible.”

**Author's Note:**

> Writing is hard
> 
> I have no idea what I thought I was aiming for with writing a cafe AU when I don’t even drink coffee
> 
> I didn’t write it but you can go ahead and imagine Lance returning to his table with Hunk and just drowning in embarrassment while simultaneously asking himself how he’s managed to date anyone, let alone make friends up to this point with how terrible he is at first impressions. Also when the waitress comes to drop off their order she totes brings along a note from Keith that says something along the lines of, _“Not bad. I’ll still accept the free food if you’re offering. (xxx) xxx-xxxx -Keith K.”_
> 
> Anywho, thank you so much for reaching the end of this fic <3  
> Kudos and comments are muchisimo appreciated, even if it's just you telling me what I could do better next time lol


End file.
